The other rented house where Ramesh had lived in Darjipara with Kamala, the lease had not expired, and he hadn't considered renting it to anyone else. Engaged in personal, emotional and domestic chores for the past few months, Ramesh had detached himself from the world outside, indifferent to the whispers of profit and loss within the confines of judgment.

Today, he diligently cleaned the house, arranged the bedding on the wooden cot, and prepared other essentials meticulously for Kamala's arrival. After the school break, he had planned to bring Kamala.

Kamala was to arrive today, but was still delayed. And during this expanse of time, Ramesh contemplated the future while lying on the freshly prepared wooden cot. Though he has never seen it, envisioning the western scene that had already unfolded in the sky, was not difficult. He thought about his ancestral house, that large enormous building in the outskirts of the city, the place where he had once dreamt of building his home with Kamala– a serene image shaded by a large road bordering his garden, a vivid expanse with occasional ponds and birds, a meandering path set amidst lush greenery. For irrigation, a well was filled with water by a cow. Throughout the midday, the compassionate sound of Kamala echoed—dusting away the abundant dust on the road, the occasional burst of laughter signifying a rare moment of respite. In this distant sojourn, the intense heat, the melancholic noon, and the solitude made Ramesh feel constrained in Hemnalini's absence in the Bengali house. Beside him, with the eternal form of Kamala, he found solace.
Ramesh quickly opened his eyes and shook off the thoughts. Kamala was not his wife, and he was to be married to Hemnalini.

After much contemplation, Ramesh had decided not to say anything to Kamala for now. After marriage, he would gradually introduce Hemnalini to the intricacies of his life, patiently unfolding the complex web of Kamala's existence with minimal pain. Post that, in a foreign land, he will effortlessly integrate with their familiar society, avoiding any turmoil, or was was Ramesh's plan.
He loved Hem, but he knew he couldn't abandon Kamala either.

The midday sun silently progresses; those who are meant to go visit have already gone, while those who won't have arranged for a midday nap. The atmosphere in summer's intense heat now seems to caress the sky with joy. In Ramesh's secluded house, the afternoon brought forth images of happiness, happy memories with Kamala, which he meticulously captured in a series of sketches.

At that time, a loud noise of a heavy vehicle was heard. The vehicle came to a halt near Ramesh's house. Ramesh understood – the school bus had come to take Kamala. Internally churning with excitement, he contemplated how he would see Kamala, converse with her, and how Kamala would accept him or Hemnalini. Suddenly, this thought agitated him.

Below, two servants were waiting – first, they carefully led Kamala into the courtyard, placing her slippers on the veranda. Then, right in front of the door of Kamala's house, they stopped, waiting for Kamala to enter.

Ramesh said, "Kamala, come inside."

Kamala, with a touch of restraint, entered the house. During the school break, Ramesh had wanted to send her to school, bringing forth tears and protest. Therefore, Kamala, entering the house, hesitated a little before reluctantly closing the door behind her.

Ramesh, however, upon seeing Kamala, was left in sheer amazement, as if beholding her anew. In those few months, an astonishing transformation had taken place in Kamala. Like a blossoming lotus, she had grown considerably. Where did she acquire the radiant vitality that previously resided in every part of her slender unblemished body? Her once pale cheeks, like the soft glow of twilight, had shed that delicacy and now embraced a gentle, sun-kissed hue. Every past of her body excludes alluring femininity. In her demeanor and expressions, there was now an unbridled freedom from any rigidity.

Today, as she entered the house and stood by the open window with an ethereal morning light falling on her face, her head adorned not with fabric but with the crimson filament of dawn, and her figure draped in a flowing marigold sari, gracefully accentuating her supple form—Ramesh remained silent for a moment, gazing at her with admiration, as a strange feeling made his heart beat faster.

The beauty Kamala possessed had now evolved into a new dimension in those few months, taking Ramesh by surprise. He uttered, "Kamala, please have a seat."

Kamala sat on a chair, and Ramesh inquired, "How is your school going?"

In a concise manner, Kamala replied, "It is going well."

Ramesh pondered on what to say next. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He said, "I sensed you hadn't eaten much. Your meal is ready. Should I bring it here?"

Kamala hesitated for a moment but chose not to say anything.

Ramesh insisted, "Wouldn't you eat? Even if it's not sweets, there are fruits—figs, apples, pomegranates..."

Kamala remained silent, avoiding eye contact, but her large dark eyelashes kept fluttering.

Ramesh, looking towards Kamala, said, "I understood you might not want to eat. But I couldn't bear to wait any longer... I need to eat now, or else I might eat what I don't know."

Ramesh couldn't fathom what he just said, but Kamala laughed out at his words, her laughter a ripple of waterfall, a thousand jingles of sweet anklets.

Amused by this unexpected laughter, Ramesh asked, "Would you still not eat?"

Kamala, smiling a bit, responded, "No."

Ramesh declared playfully, "Then, I wouldn't eat either." It felt like old times once again. So natural, so intimate.

Kamala raised her head and looked deep into Ramesh's eyes. She slowly said, "Alright, I would eat after you."

Ramesh, pleased by her commitment, proceeded to eat a piece of fruit from the plate. Suddenly, he realized his clumsy attempts with a knife were not sufficient. Watching Kamala burst into laughter. She held his hand at once, startling Ramesh, as she quickly took the knife from him.
"I guessed I wasn't good at cutting. If you believed in magic, I couldn't perform any with a knife." Ramesh jested.

Kamala laughed heartily at this comic attempt. Ramesh saw the deep red hue of her beautiful plum cheeks. He was enjoying her laughter thoroughly.
"I thought I wouldn't be able to manage this. So, let's make a deal—I wouldn't eat either. You first." He smiled. "Or else I'll have to feed forcibly."

Kamala's expression changed at once, with a serious yet coy expression, she vowed, "No, I was serious; I would only eat after you."

Assured by her solemn promise, Ramesh started to enjoy the fruit while Kamala, with a slight smile, rose from her seat. As she left the room, she couldn't escape Ramesh's inquisitive gaze, the saree had fallen from her head and her long hair was cascading like a waterfall as she moved. Ramesh smiled at the sight.

However, the happiness was short lived.

Suddenly, Ramesh noticed that the place where Kamala was standing, near the door, facing him, she was not alone—Jogendra and Akshay had entered from the door. Ramesh stood up at once and Akshay laid a glaring glance at Kamala who by then had sat on the same cot at Ramesh.

Akshay said, "Ramesh Babu, I thought you were alone here. Jogendra, it seemed our surprise visit had disrupted a moment. Let's sit downstairs."

Dropping the fruit, Kamala hastily got up. While she was retreating to the adjacent room, Jogendra observed her keenly, not diverting his gaze from her face, especially the Vermilion on her forehead screaming her marital status.

Kamala, with a reserved demeanor, entered the adjacent room.